On Wednesday night, the National Book Awards will bring together a galaxy of literature at Cipriani Wall Street in Manhattan. Bill Clinton will be in attendance to honor Scholastic’s Dick Robinson. Cynthia Nixon will emcee. And in the audience, the National Book Foundation’s executive director, Lisa Lucas, will be smiling, no matter who wins. “I feel in love with whoever the four winners are,” she said recently.

A former administrator for the Steppenwolf Theatre Company and publisher of Guernica, Lucas became the executive director of the N.B.F. in March 2016, and was the first woman and African-American to do so. “Being the first of anything in any job or any calling is sort of a complicated experience,” she said. “Of course, one feels proud of one’s achievements . . . But also, it just shines a light on how many people should be sitting where you are.”

In a recent conversation Lucas spoke about everything from the increased diversity of the National Book Award winners to Dolly Parton, but swung back, inevitably, to her one true passion. As she put it, “I’m not a critic, I’m not a professor, I’m not a writer. I’m just a person that likes books.”

Lindsay Schneider: What’s the best book recommendation you’ve gotten?

Lisa Lucas: Oh, hmm. My friend, a novelist Kathy Chung was the person who told me I had to read Elena Ferrante fairly early on and she was insistent. I did pick it up on her recommendation and it was the most amazing couple years of reading I had had in a really long time.

What is your favorite part of any book?

I think it’s the moment—whenever it occurs in the book—that you become wholly absorbed in it. Like that moment when it clicks.

How would you describe the smell of a book?

Perfect.

You’ve had several jobs in a lot of industries like on the film, theater, and education fronts. Do you think it’s all led up to this? Does this feel like the job you were always meant to have?

Sure, I think it seems like all my jobs are so varied. But the reality is, since I was 21 years old I’ve been an arts administrator. I’ve always worked in that direction. I’ve worked at theater companies, at nonprofit film companies, at a nonprofit online literary magazine, and now at the N.B.F. But really the through line is that your supporting the arts and really trying to bring resources, bring visibility, bring consistency and stability to the organizations. So it feels like actually everything that I’ve done has been building toward this in a really clear way.

When you have been asked what it’s like to be the first woman or the first African-American in your job, you’ve responded by saying, “It feels like everybody else’s job does for them.” Do you stand by that? Or have your feelings changed? Are you sick of answering this question?

Yes, being the first of anything in any job or any calling is sort of a complicated experience. Of course, one feels proud of one’s achievements. It’s exciting to be acknowledged for the work that you do. But also, it just shines a light on how many people should be sitting where you are—you know, should have had an opportunity to be where you are—in so many fields, in so many films, in so many places behind the scenes, in so many industries and technology.

And I think, the fact that I’m asked about being a person of color or a woman of color consistently, I think, it shines a light. It’s like if I were someone else, if I were a man, if I weren’t a person of color, I’d just get to spend the airtime that I have celebrating, pushing books, and focus on the task at hand, which might be inclusivity, which might be about diversity, which might be about women, it might be all sorts of things. . . . But I also feel that it is so important to not shy away from being asked that question, and instead use it to remind people that we need to create opportunities.

And the most important thing about being first is that you are paving a way, you are clearing a deck, so the next person that comes in doesn’t have to answer all these questions and do their job and focus on the task at hand. That may include all of the things that they understand and know in the world as a person of color or as a woman of color or whatever “otherization” that is applied to them by the world. You have to lean in to it. Or at least I’ve chosen to answer it. I’ve never said, “no, I’m not answering it.”

Do you feel a certain pressure or responsibility every time you talk about a book? What you say really has an impact on the world.

You want your work to matter. Like absolutely. You know? It’s a huge pressure to try and have an impact. . . . What is it for if you’re not doing it to make some kind of change—to improve somebody’s experience, to make books more visible, to give people who don’t have access—access, to widen the audience, to make people feel included in literature. What’s the point? What’s the point of celebrating the National Book Awards if it falls on deaf ears. So yes, there’s a huge pressure to make sure that this is not in vain.

What do you want to do with your role at the National Book Foundation?

I think the big goal is to get more people reading. And to get more people reading, it’s all of those things: it is widening the audience, it is including more people, it is thinking about how we talk about books, it is thinking about how to celebrate books and bringing more of a spotlight to things like the National Book Awards, 5 Under 35, and onto the people who are doing this incredible work to bring more people into reading. We have an innovations and reading prize, and something called the literarian, which is similar to a lifetime achievement award. I think everything we do is focused in lots of different directions. I’m bringing people in and reminding people what an important art form literature is.

I feel as though the literary world very much seems to suffer consequences from a lot of the systems we have in our country, whether that’s economic privilege, who gets to read, literacy, who knows how to read, misogyny, white privilege, all of these things. What are you doing to address those problems?

I have jokingly said, let’s “de-snob literature.” That’s the first front, and there’s so many issues. I can’t solve literacy by de-snobbing literature, but what I can do is just look everyone in the eye and say, “you’re a reader. You’re a potential reader. I believe that you should be at the party.” And just widening your focus to include anyone.

You would never say “that person’s not a movie watcher, or wouldn’t like movies. That person wouldn’t like music.” Even if we don’t say it out loud, we [sometimes] think “that person probably wouldn’t like this thing,” when we think about books. And I think that’s the place we start in widening our focus.

I’ve heard you say you want to make the National Book Awards like the Oscars.

Yeah, last year we added the big old red carpet tent, and this year Bill Clinton will be at the ceremony honoring Dick Robinson, which will be fun. But the format is the same.

When you are a change agent of some sort, you come in and shake something up, everybody always thinks that is about literal change. But sometimes it is about the way you frame and communicate about the event. Sometimes the change can just be about how you talk about something, and who you talk about it to. And there will surely be changes, it is not to say nothing’s changing but I think for me, these first couple years, is really about just opening it up and making sure people have a way in. [I want] to make sure people who haven’t heard the words “National Book Foundation or National Book Awards,” do.

Your first year as a guest at the National Book Awards, Ta-Nehisi Coates won. What does his success—or any other winner’s—mean to you?

Number one, I feel in love, with whoever the four winners are.

Do you know the winners?

No, we don’t know until the night! We find out the night of. But I’m in love with them all. I’m pleased as punch to see anyone that our incredible, extraordinary judging body comes up with. I’m here for that. That’s why we exist. We pick wonderful writers and readers to pick wonderful books, so I trust that. I have to believe in that process.

With that said, because I’m also a person beyond my job—yeah, when Ta-Nehisi Coates wins the National Book Award, I feel seen. You know? This is a person talking about what it’s like to live in this country as a person of color right? To see that celebrated at the highest level makes me feel like I am seen and heard. Jason Reynolds who is a wonderful writer who writes for young people was giving a keynote address at a conference that we throw every year called Why Reading Matters—in the spring—and he said, “why do I do this?” and he said “I do this because I want a young reader to pick up this book and say, ‘you see me. You see me.’” And I feel, when a book like Jason’s or Ta-Nehisi’s is celebrated on these high levels, it feels like not only does the writer see me but the judges see me, the system sees me. And that means a lot. There are a lot of different kinds of people in this country and I think we’re in a political place where it feels like a whole lot of us, for a lot of different reasons, don’t feel seen, and so it’s always wonderful when those voices are included because it’s holistic. It shows us the whole country, all of our voices, the spectacular breath of experience in the United States, and I don’t think you want to delete from the work that already exists. Sometimes we talk about inclusivity, and it’s funny because it’s not about replacement or deletion, you know? Or removal. It’s about addition. A bigger table.

Three out of the four of the awards last year went to writers of color and this year, 5 Under 35 featured all women. This feels like a concerted effort to expand the seats at the table.

You know, it’s not! I think the world is changing and . . . I think the judges are really thoughtful in how they pick. I don’t know that they’re making a ton of political decisions, I think they’re just open and sometimes it goes that way. Because women have been disproportionately underrepresented and people of color have been disproportionately represented as the world shifts and the work being published shifts, we see changes in the way that it happens. It’s not a concerted effort. We’re not trying to do that and we’re not trying not to do that either, we’re just picking great judges.

I look for different styles of writing, different perspectives, regional diversity, and gender balance. We don’t weigh our panels to be a certain kind of way. And the magic of what they come up with is awesome.

I have one final question. I know you’re very active on Twitter, and I saw you tweeted recently you’d keep an empty seat for Dolly Parton at every book awards ceremony.

I would literally do a standing triple backflip if Dolly Parton allowed me to honor her at the National Book Awards.

Do you have anybody else on your dream attendee list?

She’s just the aces man. She’s just the best. I would just like every person! It’s a list that’s too long even. . . . Maybe Obama, I’d love to see Obama.

Which one?

Both of them. And when they grow up, their children. Everybody! Their whole family.

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“The Football,” Haddonfield, New Jersey, 1982

Bruce Springsteen does his best Joe Montana in Haddonfield, New Jersey in 1982.

Photo: Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

“Corvette Winter,” Haddonfield, New Jersey, 1978

“Bruce seemed to come to Haddonfield in a different vehicle each time. After his initial visit in that old Chevy pick-up truck, the next day, Sunday, he arrived in a slick ’60 Corvette. I think that car was his pride and joy. It was loaded, it was sleek, it ruled Route 9 and the New Jersey Turnpike. I imagined what it would be like to be Bruce, cruising in that 'Vette up the Pike under that giant Exxon sign in the wee, wee hours, thinking up song ideas while listening to his favorite tunes in that bad-ass Corvette.” Frank Stefanko, Days of Hopes and Dreams

Photo: Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

New Jersey, 1978

Frank Stefanko used this photo as the cover of his book, Days of Hope and Dreams: An Intimate Portrait of Bruce Springsteen.

Photo: Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

“Rooster,” New Jersey, 1978

Photo: Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

Live at the Spectrum, Philadelphia, 1978

Photo: Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

“The Football,” Haddonfield, New Jersey, 1982

Bruce Springsteen does his best Joe Montana in Haddonfield, New Jersey in 1982.

Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

“Corvette Winter,” Haddonfield, New Jersey, 1978

“Bruce seemed to come to Haddonfield in a different vehicle each time. After his initial visit in that old Chevy pick-up truck, the next day, Sunday, he arrived in a slick ’60 Corvette. I think that car was his pride and joy. It was loaded, it was sleek, it ruled Route 9 and the New Jersey Turnpike. I imagined what it would be like to be Bruce, cruising in that 'Vette up the Pike under that giant Exxon sign in the wee, wee hours, thinking up song ideas while listening to his favorite tunes in that bad-ass Corvette.” Frank Stefanko, Days of Hopes and Dreams

Photograph by Frank Stefanko/Morrison Hotel Gallery.

New Jersey, 1978

Frank Stefanko used this photo as the cover of his book, Days of Hope and Dreams: An Intimate Portrait of Bruce Springsteen.